To Write Love and Math On Her Skin
by Bad Faery
Summary: Nick has an idea but not his notebook. Belle is a willing canvas.


The cold slide of something not quite sharp across her back woke Belle from her sleep. Nick's solid weight next to her kept her from panicking, and she slowly blinked her eyes open, turning her head to look at where he was sitting beside her. He was leaning over her, staring fixedly down at her back, and as she woke up more, she realized he was writing on her. "Nick?"

"Shh," he brushed the fingers of his free hand over her lips to shush her, his face wearing a gentler version of his 'I'm busy, don't bother me' scowl, "I had an idea."

Folding her arms beneath her head, Belle closed her eyes and tried to make out what he was writing as the pen swept back and forth between her shoulder blades, at first slow and light, then gaining speed and pressure as he became more involved in his idea. He leaned harder on her, the sensation of the pen against her skin not quite painful, but certainly not pleasant as he wrote in his rapid scrawl, apparently having forgotten his human canvas. Really, if she didn't love the man, she would have brained the infuriating bastard by now.

He kept going, the pressure easing slightly to a tickle that made her want to giggle and squirm. Biting her lip, Belle resisted the urge, not wanting to throw him off. She still couldn't make out what he was writing, but he was writing larger now, like he did when he got excited about something. Nick Rush was the only man in the universe who could be in bed with a naked woman, and his heavy breathing and shaking hands would be about math.

He'd reached the center of her back, and she dug her fingers into the pillow as the pen dipped along the curve of her spine, the pressure increasing from the tickle but not yet uncomfortable. He leaned closer to see what he was doing, his glasses lost somewhere in the tangle of their clothes, and his warm breath huffed against her skin, just a bit unsteady as he covered her with his work.

Heat bloomed in her belly as he worked his way lower. It should have been demeaning to be treated like a piece of equipment, just something else Nick used in the course of his work, but between his breath and the gentle pressure of the pen, there was something erotic in being the absolute focus of his gaze, even if he was seeing his work, not _her_ at all.

She shifted her hips as he moved down to her lower back, needing a more real stimulus than the maddening scratch of the pen against her skin. His free hand cradled her hip, holding her still so he could continue to write, and the warmth of his calloused hand was almost enough to satisfy Belle's need for touch.

He was writing on the upper curve of her behind by this point, and Belle wondered what he was going to do if he ran out of room. Move on to her legs, perhaps. She stifled a moan as the pen dragged a little harder against her, a strangely arousing sensation. Nick was branding her in doing this as surely as he did when he left love bites on her throat as he was prone to do. In a way, he was marking her as his even more clearly by doing this. Anyone could leave a bite mark, but this was something that was his and his alone. As was she, as he was terribly fond of making clear to Destiny's other residents.

The pen hesitated for a long moment, and Belle held her breath, then it made one final sweeping notation, and Nick let out his breath on a sigh, dropping his head to rest it against her. "Done. Thank you."

Belle craned her neck to try to look over her shoulder and see what he'd done. "What is it?"

Nick's eyes lit up at the question, and he moved to lie beside her again so they could look at each other without her having to become a contortionist. He launched into a lengthy explanation full of technical jargon that flew over Belle's head. He waved his hands as he talked, his accent thickening as he got more excited about what he was saying, and a faint smile tugged at her lips as she thought briefly of another man who'd once sounded much the same. It was a relief to be able to remember Gold with a smile instead of the crushing pain of loss. She had Nick to thank for that and for so much else. Letting him use her as a canvas was a small enough price to pay for what she had now.

It didn't matter that she didn't understand Nick when he got like this any more than she'd understood Rumpelstiltskin when he was in the midst of some magical experiment. What mattered was that she _listened_, and she cared that he cared. If anyone else on the ship ever realized that was all Nick needed- to have someone just _listen_ to him- they'd all be so much happier. At least he had her.

He reached the end of his explanation and leaned forward to kiss her soundly, his tongue sweeping eagerly over her lips as he pressed closer, apparently noticing for the first time they were both naked and in bed together. "And it was necessary to write these equations on _me_, because..." she prompted when he released her mouth to catch his breath.

Nick had the grace to look a little embarrassed. "Because I left my notebook in the console room." He ran his fingers over the side of her face, "You make a lovely canvas."

When he moved to take her mouth again, Belle swatted him away. "Oh no, if we do that, it'll smudge, and you'll be in a mood for a week."

Nick retrieved the pen from the bed and waved it smugly under her nose. "Indelible ink." He nipped at her lower lip and purred, "I could take you in the shower, and that's not going anywhere."

"So, I'm branded," she said dryly, not entirely sure how happy she was with the knowledge she was going to be wearing his writing for the foreseeable future. If he'd _asked_ it would be one thing, but it also wasn't Nick's style.

His eyes darkened at her words, the thought of branding her clearly pleasing him. "It'll wear off eventually," he defended weakly, but Belle could tell his heart wasn't in it. "Turn over."

She rolled onto her back, and Nick promptly landed halfway on top of her as he took up the pen again, his face avid as he placed the tip against her collarbone and started to write in small, neat letters. Belle dropped her chin and read upside down, "Property of Doctor Nicholas Rush. _Really_, Nick?"

He grinned down at her wolfishly and ran his tongue over the words. In spite of herself, Belle found herself clutching as his head as he did that. "Mine," he said cheerfully, and she yanked his hair not quite hard enough to hurt. He looked completely unrepentant. "Brody and Greer need a reminder. I don't like how they look at you."

"You don't like how _anyone_ looks at me," she pointed out, then amended that to, "Actually, you just don't _like_ anyone."

"I like _you_," he said as if it was obvious, and she supposed that it really was. Nick told her he loved her on a regular basis like he was concerned she'd forget if he didn't mention it often enough, but to hear him say he _liked_ her was new. It almost felt more meaningful than his declarations of love. Nick Rush, who liked no one, liked her.

At that thought, she plucked the pen out of his hand and shoved him off of her. Not giving herself time to reconsider, she signed her name in a looping script on his chest and drew a heart around it. "I like you too."

His brow furrowed as he looked down at her handiwork, and she had just enough time to be concerned that she'd irritated him when he complained, "You put it somewhere it won't show."

"Do you want it to?" she asked in disbelief, and he shrugged a little.

"Doesn't matter. Everyone on board knows I'm yours." Before she could process that, he was pushing her back down on her stomach, his tongue tracing the equations he'd written on her back with just exactly the right amount of pressure to make her whimper and writhe, pushing her hips back impatiently.

"I was neglecting you, wasn't I?" he murmured in her ear, accent thick with desire as he blanketed her with his body, "Had my hands all over you, but not really touching; what a fucking waste."

He nipped at her earlobe, and Belle keened, arching beneath him until his erection was grinding against her rear. One of his hands found her breast, squeezing it lovingly as his free hand strayed between her legs, and she groaned his name. "_Nick_..."

"So wet for me... my sweet Belle. Did you like that? Being my canvas? All your gorgeous skin bare and ready for me to leave my mark." He was all but growling as he slid two fingers into her, crooking them to find the spot that left her light-headed and moaning his name. "I did. My writing all over you... branding you so everyone who sees you knows you're mine. _My_ Belle."

"Nick, _please_..." she begged, not needing the foreplay. The entire morning had been foreplay, and now she needed him inside of her. Reaching down, she brushed her fingers over him and he grunted and jerked against her before batting her hand away.

"Impatient," he scolded, rubbing his bearded chin against her throat, and Belle arched her neck to give him better access. "Trying to drive me mad..." His voice cracked, and Belle knew she'd won. She groaned as she felt him slip into her from behind, and Nick echoed her.

She arched her back and canted her hips back, trying to take him deeper as he started to thrust, slow and shallow, still not giving her what she craved. She whined high in her chest, and he chuckled, his fingers delving between her legs and rubbing everywhere except where she wanted him most. "_Nick_!"

"Can't wait, love?" he asked mock-solicitously, keeping the same slow pace, and Belle ground her teeth.

"I'm surprised _you_ can," she gritted out, determined to break him, "Having me under you, your writing all over me, your name on my chest. How's Brody going to feel when he sees that? The next time he checks me out and sees your name staring back, telling him I'm yours-"

She yelped as his arm wrapped around her waist, yanking her up onto her hands and knees as he started to thrust harder, driving himself into her. Nick draped himself over her, plastered against her back as his blunt teeth worried at her throat, marking his territory like an animal. Before they'd started this, Belle had never dreamed he could be possessive, and she'd never expected she'd _like_ it that he was.

She threw her head back and shouted his name as he snapped his hips, driving himself into her frantically. He liked it when she was loud, liked the thought that anyone passing by could hear her crying out to him. If Nick had his way, they'd make love in front of the rest of the crew, and Belle had no idea what point he was trying to prove, but one of these days she just might let him. If allowing a few bite marks and doing some screaming was all it took to make him happy, she was pleased to oblige.

Bracing her hands against the mattress, she pushed back into his hard thrusts, taking him deeper, and Nick growled against her throat, a harsh, animalistic noise that aroused her as much as his fingers against the sensitive bud between her legs. "Tease," he grunted into her ear, "I was going to take my time with you."

For a moment, Belle almost felt guilty. His undivided attention was a rare gift, but so was seeing him completely out of control. Why shouldn't she have both? They had plenty of time for doing things slowly later. Barring disaster, they had eternity. "Later," she gasped out, "Now fuck me."

The noise he made at that was inhuman, and he _slammed_ into her so hard it almost hurt, but the pleasure far outweighed any pain. His fingers fumbled between her legs as his other hand played with her breast, his hands clumsy and desperate, and Belle loved it when he was like this. In moments like this he was hers completely, not a thought in his head beyond being with her, giving and taking pleasure. Nothing in the world existed for him beyond this bed, and perhaps she was as possessive in her way as he was in his.

"_God_, Belle," he groaned against her throat, nipping harder, and her neck was going to be completely black and blue later. Belle couldn't bring herself to care. His thrusts were coming at a blinding rate, so hard that her teeth rattled with each one. She jerked in his arms like a rag doll, and he clutched her closer, holding her tightly against him as they moved together. She felt her stomach flutter as he rubbed her mercilessly, trying to drive her over the precipice before he reached it himself. Already she could hear the telltale catch in his breath, the desperate little grunts that told her how close he was, and she closed her eyes and focused on the pleasure spiraling through her.

Her climax made her quiver and cry out, and Nick echoed her, his mouth slipping from her throat as he called her name. He lost his rhythm, his thrusts erratic as he drove himself into her frantically. He plunged deep and held himself still, heat flooding her as he came with a strangled shout. Whimpering, he ground against her, trying to push deeper as he rode out his orgasm, then his weight was bearing her down onto the bed, his body covering hers as he nuzzled at her neck, licking the marks he'd left on her.

"Am I too heavy?" he murmured, voice already drowsy.

Feeling his solid form sprawled on top of her was so comforting that Belle would gladly trade the ability to easily draw breath. "You're perfect," she assured him, then a thought occurred to her, "Did it smudge?"

Nick lifted his head long enough to check the equations he'd written on her, then dropped back down with a groan, like the act had taken the last of his strength. "Didn't budge," he yawned, "Take you to the console room later to transcribe it."

An act that would require her to be half-naked in the console room, Belle reflected, and wondered if forgetting his notebook hadn't been an accidentally-on-purpose sort of thing. If she was lucky, Nick would be too wrapped up in the work to notice her bare skin. If she was _very_ lucky, he might decide that having her screaming his name in the console room was the perfect way to end the day.


End file.
